


Electrified

by LegendofMajora



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, This may be fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3083426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendofMajora/pseuds/LegendofMajora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Psyche is surprised by a twist of fate in the season of cherry blossoms, meeting a familiar face he can't seem to let go of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Electrified

Somehow it happens.

He thinks it's the first day of spring when they meet, somehow in the same place at once and maybe a few words of pleasantry more from his side when he recognizes the face but not a name. In actuality he never gets one the first time and asks Izaya because it's the easiest thing to do when he's slightly two parts shy and one part nervous that he recognizes the face of someone else on someone...else. Of course Izaya isn't happy and gruffly pulls up an image from undue harassment in the name of possible blackmail (oh come _on,_ he's harmless!) and threats turning into promises of embarrassment. In the end he gives in when it's much easier and the day is long worn out and stretching thinner as the sun sets. All the while Psyche thinks as he watches television and spaces out the entire time. Izaya's curled up on the other side of the couch after falling asleep half an hour ago when it's been a long day of translating and keeping two mafias from killing each other. Psyche feels the slightest bit of guilt when he hasn't done much and he's only visiting for maybe a little longer than he expects. As long as Izaya doesn't seem to care when he is useful enough Psyche considers it free territory.

Which takes most of every night after with a face and eyes and hair burning into his eyes for the longest time he can remember. It's not like him to pass out from exhaustion in the mornings of never being able to sleep when the sun sets. Not only does it remind him of the same face and Izaya's warnings not to get involved but it provokes him further. Pushes him down and holds him there just in the cusp of sleep and thinking too hard on the days of cherry blossom trees in April turning into May and blond hair to add in. Izaya sometimes asks after the one occurrence of fainting why the face and name are important but Psyche shakes his head and dismisses it. He's not willing to share what he doesn't know himself and in that way the two are more similar than Izaya wants to believe. Izaya has his suspicions and Psyche doesn't doubt them for a moment. He knows the connections are starting to settle in against the back of Izaya's mind and out of the way for now. If only he could explain—then maybe he would get somewhere.

He never gets the name no matter how much he asks.

Yet he doesn't. Days turn into dragging weeks and while the weather warms and Psyche makes an offhand comment on the blooming of cherry blossom trees, Izaya's work grows longer. It takes more hours to keep up and by the time he comes back the chores are already done as per agreement so he sleeps anyway. Psyche doesn't bother him and they continue on in the pattern with Psyche having a free reign of his thoughts. A dangerous thing. Dangerous because he keeps thinking about the same face and maybe he decides to go out walking again. Same park, not the same face. Nowhere in sight does he encounter the same shades of blue and yellow and the spark of electricity that he feels the moment he sees the other in the first time they meet is dull. Lifeless, dead, and thirsting for more than Psyche wants to admit to his own thought processes. While more lighthearted than Izaya's, they still take a dark turn when he starts to deny the thoughts that keep him awake. Sometimes all night he stares at the ceiling and wonders why there was a spark in the first place and maybe his headphones must have shocked him. Checking them over he doesn't find any broken wires but forgets to check the inside of his chest for the ones pulsing out of line.

May comes too quickly and with bags under Psyche's eyes and soon it's the middle of the month when he thinks he sees the head of blond hair—nope. Not the same but _so_ close and he knows it has to be him until the figure turns around and dressed in black and white with blue sunglasses makes warning signs go off in his head. Izaya's many warnings buzz excitedly in his ears and he thinks he hears the almost shock of electricity while lowering his headphones and turning off his music player only to find that this isn't the same one he remembers. Not dressed in blue and white but close and the same cigarette hanging from his mouth. It all seems off though. And the words start to catch in his throat in inherent shyness that he doesn't know possesses him until the same figure turns away and never spares a glance.

No spark, no heat, no flame, and certainly no sleep. The cherry blossoms blow off of the trees and as an ephemeral as they are the memory doesn't fade. Each day dwindling down to once or twice a week just to make sure he hasn't seen things or imagined it all confirms nothing. No sight of the same outcropping of blond hair and the end of spring comes too quickly with too many questions when the sun sets. Izaya's too busy or too bored to care until he spares a glance once in a while or asks Psyche what he's doing. Not like it's any of his business or that he cares all that much for what Psyche does—Psyche's an adult. Just simple curiosity passing between moments of silence and exhaustion until Psyche fixes both of them something to eat—knowing Izaya's habits—and throughout it all, every plate remains untouched. Izaya raises an eyebrow and most of his food is left behind when he either excuses himself to bed or work. Psyche doesn't say when he doesn't know himself why his head buzzes possibly with exhaustion or with too many heavy weights setting in. Self-torture isn't what he normally does and the anxiety starts to set in when he forces himself to try and sleep with each night failing and spent staring. He's never been this preoccupied and it's too frustrating to understand the mess of emotions he's not too good at expressing to himself and translating them into logic.

The day he goes into Izaya's office for an unexpected visit Namie is kind enough to spare him some sakuramochi and neither understand why Psyche's entire body refuses to function. Sparks in his brain and lighting his head on fire as if not already inflamed with no sleep and the silence of keeping it all in. Seconds tick by and the start of summer is just outside with the end of June approaching and creeping into the niche of spring and strands of a memory left behind. It's all too real and too much to swallow the bitter saltiness rising in his throat and he shakes his head when Namie asks—doesn't even register what she's saying. Only on a normal day and normal interruptions of the Psyche kind with the same scientifically-fueled spark of curiosity in Namie's eyes and the dark glimmer of annoyance from Izaya. And then Psyche finds himself refusing his favorite food when the pink color reminds him too much of spring despite the heat of summer and green leaves on trees out of season for pink.

When his mouth is too dry to form words and he can feel the staring growing borderline burning into his skin he shakes his head mutely, grasping numbly for his headphones that lie around his neck. Remembering where he is he excuses himself without a word and an apology flashes through his mind in fleeting moments as he quickly runs out the door. This shouldn't be affecting him as much as it does—and yet he can't catch his breath after he exits the large building in Shinuku and his legs can't run when he can't breathe. In and out, easy because there is so much air and it's _not_ okay to be doing this right now. There isn't any need for sparks or never catching his breath when imprinted behind his eyes is the image of blond hair, blue eyes, and a cigarette in the portrait of a face. That's all that really matters when he encounters someone else on accident.

Just—breathe. In, out. Inhale, exhale, keep breathing. Breathe and collapse against a brick wall while maybe a couple spare a glance. All of this has been filled with maybes and he's not getting anywhere while he's lying against a wall in the midst of not knowing what's going on and why this is happening. Until he can get a grip and keep the same thing from happening again and forget this time about the cherry blossom tree across the street decorating a storefront that his eyes are drawn to. Harsh pants echo in his chest and he can feel the creaking of his ribs from the pressure of giving in.

"Are you alright?" Bright eyes, closed mouth, and a tilt of the head with— _blond_ hair shifting with the movement. Whatever Psyche has in his lungs is quickly deflating from his lungs and the air starts to cringe and curl away from him. His gaze only lasts on a face that flashes back into his sight from memory and his eyes are on shoes with blue jeans and it looks too familiar not to feel sick. So to spare himself actually thinking through it he shakes his head and his tongue catches in his teeth. Copper floods his mouth when he's spacing out again and that voice is so soft he barely hears it. "Come on, you don't look okay." Hands on his shoulders and gently coaxing him back against a wall and all he sees are cherry blossoms scattered on the ground. Fitting when he's so close and can't grasp—

"Hold on, breathe in deeply." Calm and focused and everything Psyche's supposed to be and it's not fair that he can breathe in and hold Psyche against the wall, gentle and coaxing the stolen breaths to come back. If he doesn't let go it'll be a murder because he can't _breathe_ no matter how easy this is supposed to be. It's supposed to be a lot—not ending in this. But the pulse of a different heartbeat is throbbing in his arms where foreign fingers are at and this is too much. Too much and while it's easier to just (control alternate _shutdown_ delete) push whoever is holding onto him away, he's not sure if his knees can keep up any longer. That leaves opting to listen to whatever voice is guiding him out of the nightmare of closed eyes and long nights that don't end.

Again. "There you go, just keep like that. Don't look up yet." Why not? Well—there's a reason. Maybe. Psyche in some far off distance can hear his own breaths in shallow pants through his mouth and reasons numbly that he looks like an idiot. Izaya would remark the same, so it's not an exclusive point to make. Not that he would enjoy it either. "You'll be okay. Just wait to catch your breath." Gentle, lulling, _addictive._ The things he can do with that voice and if it's just this one thing Psyche doesn't know if he wants to like it or not and pretend that this never happened. It's slowly becoming too late for that. Though as long as he starts to feel the white noise fade from his ears and his vision sharpen it has the purpose of working and maybe he's just more than exhausted. So many days without sleep does that like he doesn't notice.

And like that electric shocks jolt down his spine and down to his toes. Eyes on the ground with the same shoes and some stray cherry blossom petals even though they've been all over Shinjuku for a while. In the back of his mind he remembers that the winter was longer than normal this year and the late blooms are a result. Something to anything to keep him from being preoccupied with shaking the sleep out of his head. Every breath that isn't his own breathes life and dread when they course over his tongue, rattle in his ears, and then down, down, down. It doesn't end and the calmer heartbeat is getting to be too much. "Do you have someone to come get you? You don't look like you can stand..." Psyche's daring himself to look up and he does because he never backs down from a challenge. Slowly eyes climb up blue jeans and a white shirt to the face and eyes and hair that's exactly the same images when he blinks. The other male, not the one in the black and white with blue sunglasses and eyes that are actually blue trails off when he meets Psyche's gaze. Psyche wonders momentarily if there's something on his face from the slightly opened mouth when the other stops speaking.

"...Izaya?" What Psyche's expecting he's not sure himself, but it isn't that. Normally it should be. But the fractional widening of his eyes and Psyche keeps staring despite himself. Only to shake his head after several moments of silence and those fingers detach from his shoulders hastily and hands fall to his sides. This isn't Shizuo. Psyche knows what Shizuo looks like—dressed in black and white and always threatening to kill him when he's not Izaya and this isn't what it's meant to be. Whatever that is and safely far away so Psyche can stop making a fool out of himself for once. "I... Apologies, Izaya-san. I'll leave you be." Clearly by the way he looks away and steps back as if to leave Izaya has already done enough—for some reason the thought makes Psyche's fingers clench into fists. And in a moment of not thinking himself through and no rational thoughts left when his brain is fried from never sleeping and the same man in front of him has kept him awake.

"I'm not Izaya," a hand reaches out to stop him from leaving and he's not thinking this through. Slowly blinking he makes sure that this isn't a nightmare or a trick of his eyes. Same blond hair, same questioning eyes the color of the sky, and the same type of tree behind him. This isn't happening. "My name's Psyche." Now he sounds more like an idiot with the same spark of electricity on his breath and the other who isn't Shizuo is looking at him curiously. Muted, but Psyche's never seem much expression on his face besides the serene one at the park. "I—uh, met you in the park in Ikebukuro during the cherry blossom season! Well, not really because I only saw you for a minute but—" Why now of all times does he have to be an idiot? "I thought you were Shizuo-san, but you're not." _Idiot._ What is he doing and why is he still holding onto this stranger and why does he not want to let go without knowing what his name is?

The other glances at the fingers on his forearm and Psyche feels the sparks when he lets go and tries to swallow the flush of embarrassment. His hand curls with hesitant fingers clasping onto the fabric of black jeans and forgets that he looks like Izaya today on accident. "You're not Izaya-san? My mistake then." he glances at Psyche and Psyche feels the heat in his fingertips. "But who are you? You two look similar enough to be mistaken for each other." He's not leaving and his interest makes Psyche wonder what he's doing to engage in a conversation with the one who looks like Izaya's enemy. For the sake of his lost mentality and anything else down the drain from never sleeping he decides to just give in and figure out where this leads to.

"Orihara Psyche." he clarifies, leading himself to believe that it _might_ be a slight obsession that's kept him awake. No one person can affect him as badly as this stranger has. "And who are you if you're not Shizuo-san?" Not cherry blossoms and it's not springtime with as hot as the inside of his mouth is and just as dry. But a cheery smile that's not really a grin and betraying the expression of being more than just lost. Luckily the other doesn't say much but there's an almost smile where his lips are. He looks so much like Shizuo-san yet not because Psyche has never seen Shizuo-san so peacefully content when looking at him. Almost if choreographed his heart skips a beat and lodges in his throat when he swallows enough times to force it back down to his stomach. Quietly churning with nervousness that he won't admit is there and wonder for what he's done to get this far and fall so fast.

"Heiwajima Tsugaru. I'm Shizuo's cousin, Psyche-san." Tsugaru replies and calmly continues to ignore that his calm stare is intimidating enough to Psyche's damaged self-esteem. Not only are his thoughts imploding in silent collisions of galaxies but he's sure the universe inside of his head is collapsing inward all because he can't muster the words and the charm to pretend that Tsugaru isn't affecting him as much as he does when it's springtime filled with pink petals. "A pleasure to meet you." Psyche nods and tries a smile with teeth baring and hopes his emotions aren't too feral. "Are you sure you're okay? You look exhausted." So that's what it is and _oh,_ it dims Psyche's hopes a little more while he's trying to figure his own brain out and pretend that it's not spiraling out of touch.

"No, 'm fine, Tsu-chan. And call me Psyche!" It slips faster than he can call it back and an apologetic smile of not-really-sorry plastered on his lips. "Just surprising seeing you again is all. I'm only a little tired though." For a moment he wonders if Tsugaru sees right through it but the corners of his lips twitch in a small smile that's amused and dries Psyche's mouth. "I don't know why I remember you, Tsugaru-san, but I remember seeing you alone in the park when I was visiting and I thought you looked familiar. But not really, because when I look at you, you don't really look like Shizuo-san at all." And there his mouth goes and the fight to contain it is as pointless as much as it fails to work.

Tsugaru nods. "That's the first time I've heard that I don't look like my cousin." he gives another small smile, turning his eyes back to the street and then to Psyche. What he's looking at Psyche's not really sure because he's been staring the entire time. His eyes may or may not be burning the image of Tsugaru to haunt him for the rest of his life—or until the obsession ends. It happens, these strange focuses on people or things. Like the pink headphones hanging on his neck as an old memory of an almost unhealthy obsession with pop music. This one with Tsugaru seems like it's never going to end and if that's a good or a bad thing he's not sure. But those eyes bright and clear as the sky he can get lost in quickly when they pull him in fast enough with just a look. Electric blue if they have to have a color. "Do you need me to make sure you get where you need to be, or will you be fine for now?" Yet Tsugaru doesn't seem to feel the same spark that crackles between Psyche's teeth when he inhales a bit too sharply and the hot air stings his throat.

"I'll be fine, Tsugaru-san." Psyche chirps, clear as day and forgetting about the head rush from earlier and embarrassing himself in front of the same one that he hasn't not seen since April. He has to ask— _now,_ so hurry up and be quick or he'll miss this chance for good if he never sees Tsugaru again—"Do you wanna meet sometime? We can hang out and talk and get to know each other a little bit more since I've got nothing else to do most of the time." Word dance out of his mouth at an upbeat tempo and Psyche knows how much it irritates Izaya and earns the insult of childish but Psyche thinks he's a spoilsport. Tsugaru probably would be intimidated if he's a normal person but this is Tsugaru so Psyche is absolutely certain that he won't react like boring normal people do. That's why he's asking in the first place and the answer means more than the words weigh on his throat to his chest.

Tsugaru notices Psyche's hopeful expression but he doesn't pull a face or look at him strangely. Instead he's eerily calm and Psyche's curiosity is starting to get the better of him. "If that's alright with you, Psyche-san. I wouldn't mind." How can a simple response—easy as saying yes or no elicit the short-circuiting rewiring that stops Psyche's thoughts? And remain so calm throughout the entire thing—the obsession may not be requited and it usually never is with a sad point that Psyche's never been normal enough by default to notice when he acts overbearing. It doesn't make sense but suddenly Psyche's smile grows and it's not forced at all this time when he smiles and his lips spread so wide he thinks his cheeks are going to explode if he doesn't know any better. But since he does, there is no need to worry about it because Tsugaru just said _yes._

"Here, here! I'll give you my number and you can text me whenever, or I'll text you to make sure you have my number." Pulling a pink cellphone (a lucky guess that is as expected as it is unexpected) from his white parka he flips the screen open, clicking a few buttons and Tsugaru finds himself complying and showing his phone number to a certain stranger he's only met. For some reason he doesn't seem to worry when this isn't Izaya, even if Psyche is related to him. The air of hiding and secrets Izaya normally has is completely removed from Psyche if not the opposite. Shy only for an outward appearance but bubbling with the sudden arrival of energy back into him after calming down from being too tired and too much reminiscing and sleep is a wonderful virtue enraptured in a vice.

A text pings on Tsugaru's phone and Psyche's smile is blinding. "See you later, Tsugaru-san?" A nod and a smile until Psyche's staring at the same face and Tsugaru has already left. If he looks, he won't find him down the street. But the cherry blossom tree sits across the street, sitting in the defiant crease of space and time and reality of the chances to meet him. The same one live like a wire and making his breath catch in maybe surprise or because blond hair blue eyes and a gentle smile is a new obsession for a little while. If Izaya bothers to ask why the dumb smile is still there by the time he comes back then Psyche's content to tell in excited babble that Izaya doesn't really listen to.

And the same night he gets a text from Tsugaru.

_~_

It's hard to tell when it begins.

Maybe late summer while the leaves are still green and it's hot enough outside to have Psyche's tongue stick to his teeth. Not really counting the days mean maybe and almost become blended into absolutes in which Psyche is absolutely sure that Tsugaru is probably more than an obsession. Which is good and all, except it's nerve-wracking and his stomach churns and twists whenever he sees the same blond hair and blue eyes and the silly smile that is utterly ridiculous because it makes Psyche's tongue heavy. Not to mention the way his blood feels like lead and his heart pounds loud enough to cause an earthquake.

So it starts simple enough to where Psyche can pinpoint it. Finally sleeping but still staying up late—he's hooked on this new game. Tsugaru is polite and kind and handsome (not that he'll admit, but can't deny the truth) and a lot more fun than Izaya or Shizuo-san who still doesn't believe Psyche is not Izaya. Which is too bad because if Shizuo-san is like Tsugaru, then he's missing out. (Izaya more than him, in his devilish opinion.) And spending afternoons with Tsugaru is as natural as watching cherry blossom petals float through the air as sparse as they are now and simply refusing to give up. Psyche admires their tenacity. Tsugaru appreciates their beauty.

Psyche has learned about Tsugaru in the stretch of summer dotted with idle conversations and walking around like friends. Tsugaru likes smoking from a kiseru even though cigarettes are more practical, like Shizuo who Psyche has always remembered has a cigarette on him. Tsugaru doesn't like water, despite his name (giggling at the irony while Tsugaru turns his head until Psyche coaxes him back) and he comes to visit Shizuo in the summertime despite living several cities away. Every single little fact Psyche can hold onto from Tsugaru is worth memorizing as Tsugaru doesn't fade from his interest. Each day, instead, Tsugaru keeps drawing him back in to wondering what makes Tsugaru tick like a clock on its own time.

Izaya is still suspicious when Psyche slips out for a midsummer festival and spends most of the time for looking at fireworks to stare when Tsugaru, in some sort of slip, grabs his hand and leads him to a better place to view them. Which doesn't help when Psyche turns red in the face and tries to explain that Tsugaru, still holding his hand, is the reason why his throat is too dry and his heart beats too rapidly to close his mouth no matter how stupid he looks. The little things and no matter how much Psyche tries, bordering on an almost panic when Tsugaru doesn't let go and doesn't see how much he's affecting Psyche's sanity from just one warm hand in his until the night ends and he gives in to his fate. A fate of sizzled nerves conducting electricity to keep it away from his heart and the days to fix it become longer without Tsugaru providing an energy source.

And then the worst of having to say goodbye comes. Not that this day has always been on his mind—Psyche refuses to admit the blatant things like Izaya does—but rather having to say goodbye at the end of summer while the leaves at the start of fall start to turn into pretty fall colors. They don't look as pretty, Psyche notices, when he walks by to the same park in Ikebukuro, stepping around the cracks in the ground as if they remind him of the cracking of system failure and Shizuo-san may be around if he doesn't hurry. Another light pole thrown at him is the last thing he wants Tsugaru to worry about. Especially the bruise (it was only one time!) that discolors his face and Tsugaru flutters like a mother hen with ruffled feathers—for the first time he looks concerned. And what's worse is that it makes Psyches stomach lurch painfully and squeeze tightly as if forcing acid into his blood and clipping his heart on the way back.

No one notices who Psyche is in Ikebukuro. Small town identities and the curiosity is elsewhere while he walks to the park, dressed in Izaya's clothes because he has to distract Shizuo if he sees him for Izaya's business in Ikebukuro. Not an ideal job but for Izaya he'll do just about anything. Except admit that he's been spending time with Tsugaru, which is supposed to be a secret he takes precautions to keep from Izaya and everyone else but Izaya still manages to find out. How, Psyche doesn't know but he only says it's an obsession (it's not at this point) and avoiding the lecture and a train wreck of threats Izaya never notices that today is the last day Psyche will get to see Tsugaru again.

That was this morning. This is approaching the same park with a cotton tongue and blood like lead sinking into the ground wanting to disappear and deny that it hurts to say goodbye. He doesn't want to think about it or speak without Tsugaru around to listen to Psyche's rambling thoughts and add in once in a while. Or listen to Tsugaru tell stories about himself, sometimes involving Shizuo and his brother Kasuka and Psyche wonders how they can get along so easily when he's positive at this point Izaya has never tolerated him for longer than the scratch at the surface. He doesn't need family—only a distraction from work. Tsugaru spends time with him when Psyche's free and the days Tsugaru is visiting they don't talk about what Psyche does or why he can't say anything about it. Tsugaru doesn't ever pry past when Psyche's unwilling and his heart catches in his throat as a reminder that Tsugaru is too close to him and still too far when he leaves.

"Psyche?" Look up. Just look up from the ground, walk around the park, say goodbye. It's all so simple out of context but inside it's smashed until it fits in and then whatever falls away catches in the mechanism of getting himself to speak. But electrified river-blue eyes with still waters are a sight he's going to miss so he takes the chance to dive in headfirst and if he drowns then he's content to lie there, he figures numbly. Tsugaru doesn't need to know that each breath stings down his throat with sparks like static electricity and they leave burning indents the same as feeling the desire to grab onto Tsugaru's hand. Instead they walk side-by-side and since Psyche isn't saying anything, they're quiet most of the beginning seconds counting down away from summer.

School is already in session so there aren't too many people around. Some young mothers, some teenagers skipping school, usual crowd. No one notices the odd pair of normally dressed supposed enemies when they're not who they're supposed to be in the eyes of everyone else. Trees in the park are crinkling with leaves turning colors at the borders and the wind that threatens to tug and pull at the branches. Tsugaru walks and his eyes are constantly moving, surveying the park as is his natural hobby while he moves and flows like a river heading downstream and—into the ocean. Psyche swallows dryly and whatever sticky saliva remains in his mouth rolls over his tongue like saltwater catching on his eyelashes despite how he never cries unless on command. It takes several minutes of walking for Psyche to lift his head up again and the jolt that starts to run through his nerves nearly plants him into the ground from the sparking pain in his heels.

"When will you be back, Tsu-chan?" Psyche forces his voice to rise back from the watery graveyard of electric eels and waterlogged mud keeping it in his throat. If he forces himself enough he can pull off the appearance and Tsugaru will never know what's wrong and why it's too late and his mind is an utter mess of figuring out the blond hair and electric eyes beside him.

Tsugaru lifts his head, turning his gaze back to Psyche and the burn envelops his chest down to his fingertips. "Next spring or summer. Although I'm not sure when I'll be able to come back again until the time comes." he replies as calmly as he walks and ebbs and flows while Psyche is caught in a riptide and while Psyche is supposed to be the one in control his emotions are out of control and it's a constant chronic condition whenever he's with Tsugaru. This obsession—can't be called that—isn't as much as research as it's supposed to be if he has deviated from what means separating himself and removing the emotional side that comes and takes over and drags him under. Psyche from the corner of his eyes on Tsugaru feels his own hand twitch in the direction of Tsugaru's lying against his side. No pipe lit and he remembers the two fingers that bend with the thumb to hold the kiseru and watch the smoke rise. Smoking isn't a hobby he enjoys but when Tsugaru says he can put it out Psyche shakes his head because it's a chance to stare— _observe_ for a change. With an excuse, too.

"That's such a long time, Tsu-chan. What am I supposed to do if you're not around to talk to me?" Psyche exaggerates with the movements of his hands which is disguised as an effort to brush against Tsugaru's short-sleeved arm and feel the rise of heat from warm skin. Concealing the shudder he keeps talking and maybe if he tries hard enough to forget his eyes won't sting like his breaths. "You're the only one that listens to me while Iza-chan tells Namie that I've been experimented on enough." Pushing a pout with just enough lip to work and Tsugaru's lips start a smile. "He tells me that Erika-chan already makes BL stories about Iza-chan and I! Can you believe that? And then whenever I see Erika-chan, she's always so red in the face and it makes me wonder if what Iza-chan said was true." Shaking his head, he argues with himself and blinks a couple more times than necessary. "I don't think she would, right? Iza-chan and I are related, and that would be weird." Anything to see Tsugaru smile at least one last time before the images burn in his eyes. He wants a happy one to counteract the empty feeling that starts to gnaw in his chest.

"I think you may want to talk to Erika-san soon then." Tsugaru conceals the fact that picturing Izaya and Psyche as a couple makes his stomach churn, unaware of the nuclear reactor meltdown compared to the mild distaste he experiences. But on his own the feeling of having to say goodbye to Psyche is hard enough and the calm facade he can use is the only thing he relies on to not startle Psyche with just how much...no, it's not worth thinking about now. "Because she still writes those, and then asks me to pose with you for some reason." He smiles and Psyche's grin is far more beautiful and staring is easy enough to do with Psyche so oblivious to it all. Although he knows what Erika's intentions are, he has no will to scare Psyche away with something as lewd as what Erika wants. Keep to her fantasy, and he'll keep to facing reality by the time he leaves.

Psyche looks horrified and buries his face in his hands, stopping in the middle of the path while his shoulders shake. Tsugaru tilts his head to the side, confused because it almost looks like the shudder in Psyche's shoulders and the lack of laughter isn't what he wants to believe it is. Reaching out a hand he stops himself before Psyche can see and he keeps his hands preoccupied. "Are you alright, Psyche?" He grits his teeth for reasons unknown that he does happen to know but doesn't wish to express. Saying goodbye is never one of his favorite things to do, but if it's affecting Psyche then it's even worse with the pang of guilt because not once has Psyche looked at him since they arrived at the park, but (through) around him. And never making contact with the reddish eyes is somehow disappointing like a hollow existence and a summer that can't be regretted.

But he surfaces, just as Tsugaru steels his resolve to tap a shoulder and his eyes look suspiciously red—more than usual. "No, no, that's just horrifying! Can you imagine—wait, no, don't! Tsu-chan, don't think about me and Iza-chan like that, it's not what it looks like!" Groaning in his own self-defeating misery brought upon himself, Psyche buries his head into Tsugaru's chest and above the shirt that separates them both he can feel the pulsing electricity and the sudden muted jolt when Tsugaru feels Psyche's weight on him. Just hold for a little while and breathe in the scent of tobacco and vanilla and since Psyche normally likes hugs Tsugaru pets his head once and lets Psyche wrap his arms around him for seconds until he pulls away, bright as normal.

Then he's not. Despite covering the sting and the feeling of loss and wondering where Psyche has gone too far in this experiment of being friends the line isn't so certain. But what he does know when they continue walking is that the exit is too close and they're finishing the short path before Shizuo comes to pick Tsugaru up and give his goodbye. No sign of a bartender's suit at the entrance where dirt trail meets the sidewalk and even then sparks the smallest amount of hope left when Psyche remembers that he's fallen into his own trap and it's a one-way ride there. The other side, he tells himself, doesn't exist.

"We've reached the end of the trail." Tsugaru notes and they stop, still hidden in the trees and no one else is around and if Psyche's resolution breaks and falls and crumbles will it make a sound in the form of the sob climbing up his throat that he tells himself isn't there. Because maybe most things are filled in with indefinite answers and insincerity that leads to conflict and confusion and nights staying awake wondering if the same thing happens when the amount of time has led to something over the nothing that was expected. Even if the burn in his throat the slick trail of saliva that keeps his tongue from collapsing is nothing compared to the minor blurring Psyche sees when he blinks and his eyes dart to different objects. All signs of attempting to appear normal and Tsugaru is strangely and frustratingly the only one he can't appeal to when the mask doesn't stay on long in his presence.

It's only a matter of time.

"I believe this is goodbye, Psyche." Tsugaru states and his eyes are tracking something in the distance—Shizuo. But when his eyes come back to Psyche and he expects a bubbly face and a smile to go he doesn't recognize at first the crumpled look that pushes and pulls itself into the perfect face of porcelain happiness and the red eyes are only a trick of the light. Psyche still smiles widely with white teeth and almost like he's holding back a laugh when most of the time he giggles at anything remotely amusing or when Tsugaru looks confused as he does now. Shifted eyebrows and a curious expression with Tsugaru's habit of biting on his lip never fail to make Psyche giggle and then—he hears it. A small, lighthearted laugh and Psyche imitates him by squeezing his cheeks together with his hands and failing to impersonate Tsugaru he continues giggling which is always normal except for when they're in the view of the public and for some reason it sounds so _wrong._ Yet Tsugaru doesn't understand why the sound digs into his chest between the third and fourth rib and blames it simply on losing the privilege of seeing a friend every day.

Shizuo's bartender outfit crosses the street and Tsugaru knows that time's up with a reminder in his head flaring like lights and fireworks the same night he remembers the feel of Psyche's hand, colder in his but never faltering when he grabs on. It was only a simple mistake and for some reason when Psyche didn't pull away he assumed somehow that it meant something that he's been leading himself on. Only to remember that he's making a mess of things every time he sees Psyche and associates too much for a simple friendship and a bubbly voice that never stops unless to listen. As much as it hurts to lose a friend and even more if he lets himself think about it, he knows that his train will be leaving if he lingers for as long as he wants to.

Controlling himself is the best he can do. As long as Psyche can't see inside—that feels like cheating—then he'll be fine. "Shizuo-san is here, Psyche." he reminds and why the expression of Psyche when his face relaxes and he pulls away makes his throat sting is a mystery he's not sure he wants to bring to light. Psyche never looks at him and when his eyes are on the ground or on the tree behind him the temperature suddenly drops to the beginning of a harsh winter—focus. "Thank you for taking the time to see me off." he says, uneasily calm when Psyche isn't looking at him and then he hears a giggle and nothing is right anymore when outwardly Psyche is fine but for some reason he doesn't want to give up there.

And then the giggling turns into a sob. Harsh, sharp, and grating when it reverberates in Psyche's throat and it suddenly stops when Tsugaru notices the wetness in Psyche's eyes is trailing down his cheeks. Psyche himself looks confused, reaching up a hand to wipe at the drops as if in disbelief for losing himself this one time and Tsugaru has no idea why or what or how but the drops keep falling like fall rain. When Psyche looks Tsugaru in the eyes he offers a smile, ready to apologize because this isn't supposed to be happening (the sound of breaking down a little more) and if it buries into Tsugaru's own form of guilt and somewhere—he kicks himself mentally—in content when Psyche drops his composure for him and it's a sadistic pleasure he's ashamed of.

The sound is like a slap to the face and Psyche covers his mouth when another breaks through, unaware of Tsugaru's intentions until arms wrap around him and pull him into Tsugaru's chest but this time Tsugaru can't control his heartbeat and if Psyche can tell then maybe it means what it's supposed to mean and not a maybe this time or for another. Stop walking around maybes and _why_ does it hurt so much that Psyche grabs his shirt and curls it in between his fingers. No matter that his shirt is wet or that Psyche's breaths sound frantic like trying to pull himself together and not cry in front of Tsugaru who has no idea of the ache that comes from making the realization fully that Tsugaru is leaving and this experiment is not like and not an obsession he can let go of. That's the worst of being in pain and feeling himself crumble and fall with one last blow of Tsugaru politely saying goodbye.

He doesn't want that. What he wants are the arms wrapping around him tighter than they ever have and Tsugaru's chin resting on his head while he keeps stifling the sobs and damn it this is getting him only further in producing more tears. Psyche can feel himself shaking with the drawn out sob that he chokes down and as long as Tsugaru keeps holding onto him like this he can pretend for maybe just a little while that he loves him back as much as Psyche loves him too much to say goodbye so easily. Why it has to be Tsugaru of all people he doesn't know and it's too hard to think about when every single defense of making sure this doesn't happen is destroyed.

"Psyche, don't cry." Tsugaru's gentle voice comes like a tidal wave crashing down and the tears keep coming faster and faster. It's not fair when asking him to cry is the same as asking him not to look at a river and see the reflection of Tsugaru instead of his own. So he lets himself cry on the account that it's really Tsugaru's fault and the ache he can deal with on his own if it means Tsugaru doesn't love him and even though he thinks Tsugaru's voice is lower than it normally is Psyche can't delude himself like that. Even if crying makes him look stupid and feel so wrong for believing that Tsugaru would ever love him back and this is easier to pretend while he's still there and holding onto Psyche. One last hope and in the morning when Psyche's finally aware he can move on despite the ache and despite the fact that his heart isn't his anymore. Only hopes then that Tsugaru would _handle with care_ and if it breaks then that's the process of realizing that he's been too unguarded this whole time.

"Y-You did it, Ts-Tsu-chan," Psyche lifts his head and can't bring himself to look into Tsugaru's eyes and confirm the emptiness is real and very much there. His throat burns with mucus and angry harsh tears that drop and fall too quickly to stop the flow and make Tsugaru's shirt wet. "You took my heart, and I wasn't expecting it to happen so easily over you." Almost incoherent like pretending which is fine as long as he keeps it to himself and force himself to acknowledge that the tears are just as real as the heartache. Stitch back the wounds with thick enough thread and soon he'll be good as new as long as Tsugaru can forgive him for this and wanting to have more than he already deserves. And if this means goodbye, the end of everything because Tsugaru doesn't want to do this—then, that's okay. Smile, apologize, say goodbye, and go.

Until lips press against his with the upturn of his head and a hand cupping his cheek have to go and break him down again. Shizuo is probably waiting, getting impatient and not yet aware of what Tsugaru's doing and neither is Psyche—

"Psyche," Tsugaru pulls away to speak in a low murmur, feeling the smaller body stiffen and coil in on itself no matter how much it bothers Tsugaru to see Psyche beat himself up over something like this. "Stop thinking for a moment. Just relax." Murmuring instructions he demonstrates by leaving his eyes open at slits when he dips his head to kiss Psyche again, brushing dry lips against tear-stained red and coaxing Psyche to move with him while he's active like a live wire. If he does it means that Tsugaru's hopes aren't entirely lost and maybe he's not as good at reading people as he thinks he is if he hasn't noticed this before—or pushed it away because facing the truth is much harder than it looks. Kissing him is the easiest thing and if the spark is there then that means this isn't as bad as it is and the shock wave travels down his throat, dancing around the hollow emptiness of having to say goodbye and digs right in to his heart, forcing the electricity to flow and ripple through his nerves.

Psyche gasps at the moment, feeling overloaded with shocks and tracing his spine like the warm wet feeling of Tsugaru's tongue on his lips. For a moment he's too confused and too burned out to know what to do when this is far beyond his expectations and thinking is too much so eyes close in response and fingers tighten their hold on Tsugaru. And the kiss is completely strange with the warmth and saliva slipping between both when Psyche forgets to swallow, too focused on the fire beneath his skin and the confusion in his brain swirling around in rainstorms pouring down his cheeks. His mouth feels hot when Tsugaru's lips brush against his and the buzz in his head trickles into his lungs, breathing in vanilla and tobacco air. Kisses move from brushing lips and squeezing pulses to lightheaded kisses of Tsugaru sucking on Psyche's bottom lip, licking and kissing and effectively taking every last thought of sanity with brushing Psyche's cheek with his tongue.

Tsugaru murmurs against Psyche's lips, pulling into the gasp Psyche sucks in air and tasting saltwater on his tongue. "Why did it have to be you..." Psyche's fingers detach one by one, moving to link his hands behind Tsugaru's neck while the arm around his waist tightens. Every second passing feels too quick and too fast to fully imprint the taste of what takes making Shizuo wait when they've been waiting over an entire summer for this to happen over the knowledge of knowing what comes next. Too soon they pull apart, breathing through their mouths in heavier breaths and at least the flow of Psyche's tears has stopped, leaving bright eyes and a confused expression mixing frustration, hope, and aware that Tsugaru is leaving. Psyche murmurs in a question so unlike himself to be quiet and murmuring when he stifles hiccups from crying too hard in such a short amount of time and maybe it's the effects of his own sense of logic catching up with everything that isn't logical in loving someone else he shouldn't. Asks that would Tsugaru please call him so he won't miss him too much and doesn't realize how much of a kicked puppy look he can pull off so easily.

Tsugaru pulls Psyche back, still holding onto him and takes one hand, placing it over his chest where he knows his heart is about to beat right out of his chest and lets one smile free, only for Psyche. When Psyche stills and listens, a smile starts to form.

The last words Psyche hears before a call the same night still ring in his head with the same steady smile and something mischievous in Tsugaru's river-blue tsunami-calm eyes. Still electrified and high on the adrenaline rush to focus on the sadness of not seeing Tsugaru until next spring but maybe he can sneak in a few visits to recharge and assure himself that Tsugaru's still the same. And feel the heat running through his veins that leaves him dizzy and flushed with Tsugaru and the smile meant for him like the package underneath a ribcage that beats faster when he feels it.

"Handle with care."

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing these two goofballs, I'm hoping I can do better with them. Psyche's just so difficult, sigh.
> 
> If anyone notices a spelling mistake, please let me know. 
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone. Thank you for reading.


End file.
